


Scraping up the pieces

by freedomqueen



Category: Reign (TV)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Character Study, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-08
Updated: 2020-02-08
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:07:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22606750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/freedomqueen/pseuds/freedomqueen
Summary: One-shot, set after the events of S04E13, "Coup de grace" | A little study on Catherine de Medici's character, her relationship with Lord Stephan Narcisse and her sons.
Relationships: Catcisse - Relationship, Queen Catherine/Stéphane Narcisse
Comments: 2
Kudos: 12





	Scraping up the pieces

**Author's Note:**

> Hi there! This one-shot was written well… maybe 2 or 3 years ago? I can’t even remember, that’s how much time passed by. I had difficult times trying to find a beta reader, since English is not my first language. Finally, after years of searching, I found one in a Facebook group “Beta readers & Critiques”: Jon Kazama. Thanks! Without him this work probably wouldn’t had been published or it would’ve taken more time. 
> 
> First of all, I do not own any Reign rights or characters (I wish though). Second, some of the facts are from the series and others are extracted from the awesome work by Leonie Frieda “Catherine de Medici: Renaissance Queen of France”. It is a must read!  
> I guess there’s nothing more to say. Just enjoy and if you really really feel like it, leave a review. It’s always a boost and constructive critiques are always welcome.

* * *

**_Catherine de’ Medici_** had a true natural talent for astronomy, sciences, physics and mathematics. The nuns whom guarded the Italian girl when she was merely an infant had witnessed the interest Catherine showed towards one particular discipline. “ _La duchessina_ ”, as people would often call her as a child, combined her vast knowledge on the subjects with her devotion to astrology: the strong belief that heavens and stars affected human beings and their health was forever present in her life.

Over the years, the Queen Mother reluctantly realized –though she would never admit it to anyone– great unusual celestial phenomena often coincided with dark times: a comet was seen when she married to Henry, the Dauphine of France; another when Francis, her first-born son, died. Catherine still remembered the red comet had crossed the dark-blue sky, like a sword cutting through flesh. “A bleeding star” Nostradamus had warned her, but _she knew_. The birth of Charles, her fourth child, was followed by an eclipse of the sun. “Signals of divine wrath or portents”, Nostradamus’ stark voice announced that time but –again– the Court Seer didn’t have to.

Catherine already knew.

To confirm her suspicions even more, when Catherine had been strong enough to confront her early days, she discovered (or rather uncovered) that a red shooting star was violently slicing through the Italian sky when life decided to brutally teach her younger self her first lesson. She had been only eight years old when the rebels stormed the Florentine palace; she was (back then and still now) an orphan, a lost little girl who didn’t matter and didn’t think she ever would. However, her family name and fortunes made her something worse: a target. Catherine quickly learned that war didn't spare children; she had been held hostage for years and the fear of not knowing what would happen to “the Medici girl” (as they used to call her) had haunted her every passing day since then.

When troubled, Catherine could still hear their laughter.

_That sickening laughter._

Then one day the laughter had stopped on her mind –it grew quiet. After years of forging her character and finally being ready to be entirely honest to herself and confront the truth, she came to a realization: it had been that precise lesson what had kept her alive throughout the challenges life had set for her. “ _To never wait for a man’s rescue_. _History is written by survivors,_ ” she had repeated to herself so, _so_ , many times until she managed to convince herself she was surely that: a survivor.

**...**

Days ago, almost like announcing Prince Henri’s arrival, the heavens had spoken to her again. The past normally didn’t torment or worry Catherine. In time she learned that killing to avenge a wrong wasn’t murder. It was justice. The ultimate motive for every one of her actions had always been to protect her family: the Valois dynasty. But lately, one particular moment kept creeping up in her dreams...

Catherine could see the darkness and smell the stench that invaded the room, it pierced her nostrils. She was still Queen of France (or the Italian Queen of France as the common and noble people used to scornfully call her back in those days). She had summoned Cosimo Ruggieri, her astrologer, who was an expert with black magic. After all those years, Catherine still could picture the large old mirror, how it suddenly had turned into a magic chamber. All of her male children, but Hercules, started to appear, one by one. _“The number of times each face turned on the burnished surface will be the amount of years your sons will rule,”_ the man had said. It had been Francis who appeared first, his image –rather blurry– showed only once. Then came Charles, whose image circulated fourteen times and finally Henri, whose ghostly face showed fifteen.

Although she loved and lived for all her children, Henri had always been her favorite. So, when she was told of her son’s return, she couldn’t help but instinctively feel delighted with the news. She had dearly missed her _chers yeux_ but she knew life would once again test her abilities to survive; only this time the ultimate decision was far more complicated, for Catherine de’ Medici had had one instinct ever, and that had been to protect her family and their birthright, which was their rule… but how could she protect her family and secure the Valois line when her own children were the ones tearing it apart from within?

The feud between Charles and Henri escalated every day, not only encouraged by their sister Leeza, queen of Spain, who kept meddling in French politics insisting that Henri was the man to keep France Catholic. There was Nicole as well. Both of her children seemed two street dogs fighting over a bone, tearing each other limb from limb; not most certainly the King and the Dauphine of France. From the instant Catherine realized the grip the former peasant girl had over the King of France, she knew she had to remove the bone immediately... even though her son’s bad blood run deeper –their dispute was not purely over Nicole.

Since they were children Catherine noticed a certain friction between them. Henri had always looked down on his elder brother, as if Charles had never been worthy of the French throne or their mother’s affection; Henri frequently incited Charles to compete, in order to show the King which amongst them was the better man and that the only thing Henri was missing was the crown.

Charles, on the other hand, was utterly jealous for her brother’s military conquest and victories even though everything the Duke of Anjou did was –in the end– in the name of the King but above all, Charles hated the love Catherine (not so) secretly professed to his younger brother.

The former Queen Regent feared Charles or Henri would actually put in motion actions to deliberately hurt each other… for many years it had only been a threat, nothing happened. Until the peasant girl had shown up on French Court.

_There will be civil war. A bloodbath that pits brother against brother until one of my sons is dead._

**–XXX–**

Self-absorbed, the former Queen Regent forgot about the man lying beside her. Lord Narcisse, breathless, shifted to his side so he could face Catherine. The Queen Mother’s blonde hair was a chaotic mess as each time it ended up being whenever they had their sexual encounters.

After their constant mismatches over the past years, Narcisse reluctantly realized he would never get enough of the Florentine woman –not only was their lovemaking something he had never experienced before but as years and recent days went by, Narcisse realized he had always savored Catherine’s fervent personality. The sickly jealousy left behind, the pair were as thick as thieves.

Lord Narcisse thought the former Queen Regent was not only clever, but cunning; a Machiavellian genius when things came down to protect the Valois dynasty and in extent, France. Time after time Catherine de’ Medici outwitted men that were known for their intelligence or treacherous ways so the list of reasons why the Italian woman stirred something up in him was endless. Circumstances even had lead him to confess to Catherine she would’ve made a good king. One could say the acute Lord had met his match and for the time been they were on the same side; which made the Queen Mother’s presence not only tolerable but desirable.

It frightened him when he dared to admit the pull between them was so strong; fate kept insisting on leading Narcisse back to Catherine’s side (or bed for that matter). When he came back from England, after Lola’s death, he found himself struggling with which ever feelings Catherine managed to awake in him.

Narcisse knew he loved –and would always love– the Lady Lola, of that he was entirely certain; he would never find again a love so pure but he also knew he didn’t want to feel that sensation again: to be exposed. To experience again the fear of not knowing what fate would bring upon a woman who wasn’t willing to do the unthinkable to protect herself (or her kin). Honesty over survival was non-negotiable for Narcisse, it had been always survival if the choice was to be made... and in their time together he came to learn Catherine thought the same. But he was guilty of one thing: Narcisse's pursuit of power had only ever been in his own self-interest. Catherine only wanted power for her children –first for Francis and now Charles. It was not truly her survival that matter but to secure her children’s **.**

_Recently, the Queen of Scots accused me of being a selfish husband, of caring too much for my station more than the safety of my wife._

Narcisse had tried to resist the Medici charm but time and time again he failed. When they parted ways deep inside, he knew they would meet again. It was without any doubt Catherine’s character that lured him in.

_You and I work very well together, Catherine. Too well._

Lord Narcisse had witnessed moments of despair and vulnerability in the former Queen Consort of France’s life, but Catherine acknowledge her weaknesses, she remembered them for not to make the same mistake twice and rose above: “ _Even at my lowest of lows I am stronger than my enemies._ ”

**...**

The Lord, barely satisfied, started to kiss Catherine’s collar bone but she didn't move or even flinch at his passionate touch like she used to, nor did she straddle him or playfully toy with his growing arousal. Narcisse tried another thing he learned his lover rather enjoyed: a cheeky hand moved to make its way down on Catherine’s body, but she indifferently slapped it away.

“What’s wrong, Catherine?” Lord Narcisse insisted, “Catherine?”

Catherine elegantly got up from the mattress and seductively covered herself with one of Narcisse’s robe. It didn’t bother her that men she choose to share her bed with contemplated her naked body; she was confident and was well aware of her attributes so without paying much attention to her lover’s sudden loss for words, Catherine sat in front of Narcisse’s mirror and started to comb her hair (when she and Narcisse rekindled their affair she made sure Stephane’s chambers would be equipped with whatever a Queen may need); carefully attending to her hair soothed her and helped to distract her from her thoughts.

The star-crossed lovers didn’t know that behind the curtains was a shocked audience. Henri Valois, Duke of Anjou, hadn't seen her mother in years... and despite the embarrassing display of pleasure he had been forced to witness (due to his own foolishness) Henri noted something was completely off about her mother.

“Catherine?”

A still crying Nicole, Henri and Catherine –this time– were paying attention to what Narcisse had to say.

“What’s wrong?”

_Thud._

The golden comb Catherine was holding fell off her hands, loudly crashing against the floor and the soft hand that held it was instead clasped over her delicate and perfect thin lips, preventing broken sobs to leave the Queen Mother's mouth.

_Of course something was wrong._

Narcisse should have known better; Catherine’s children had openly declared war to each other not only for a woman but for the French throne; that could be the only reason of her distraught.

Narcisse wasn’t certain of many things when it came to the Florentine woman, but of one he was sure: Catherine loved her children above all things. The dispute between Henri and Charles was not only politically affecting her (and France for that matter) but it was tearing her from the inside out. Lord Narcisse noticed the heavy circles which were unsuccessfully concealed in the Queen Mother’s hazel eyes.

He got up from the mattress and covered himself with his dark-blue robe. Stephane didn’t know what to do, but he found himself hugging Catherine suddenly (and momentarily) fragile figure from behind; he felt utterly stupid in doing so but he didn’t think of his actions –not this time.

“Talk to me.”

Narcisse’s chin rested over Catherine’s shoulder, her hair and perfume invading his vision and nostrils. He deeply inhaled, the Queen Mother smelled like him.

“One of them _needs_ to die. And– I– I cannot survive the loss of another son. First Francis– Henri. I– He’s ambitious and won’t back down. I saw it in his eyes... his feud with Charles will cost me, us _and_ France everything.”

Catherine finally spoke in a strangled and strained voice; she rather would face dead than let herself shed a tear in someone’s presence. Narcisse got on his feet and took Catherine’s hand, forcing her to stand up and turned the woman into his arms. This time the tender gesture was not calculated; it was real. It felt real.

“We will work it out.” Narcisse tried to reassure her. “We’re together now.”

To Narcisse’s words triggered something in Catherine and she wrestled herself from Narcisse’s embrace.

“Together? What’s in this for you?” As she yelled at him, Catherine said, trying to free herself from Narcisse's embrace. “Not only days ago you were you willing to sacrifice Charles, bragging of how Henri won your respects! Openly declared against Charles, your King, and me–”

“Catherine, we crossed that bridge already–”

“THEY _ARE_ MY CHILDREN, Stephane, and if you dare or even think to lay a hand on them I swear to you I will not hesitate to kill you–”

“STOP IT!” Narcisse hollered back, taking the former Queen Consort by her forearms and lightly shaking her to stop her in her frantic movements. He continued talking with a soft and hoarse voice. “Catherine, we long ago stopped wondering what the other is up to. We are on the same side despite everything we have done to each other. For the good of France?”

Narcisse said, extending a branch of olive. Catherine looked him in the eye and found something she had never seen on him: plain truth; nor hidden intentions or a hint of doubt rose in her when Lord Narcisse pronounced those words. She suddenly felt betrayed, hurt by Stephane’s sudden and unrequired sincerity. She was speechless… it was a feeling she had never experienced before.

_Liar._

It had happened. Once. It seemed so long ago… when her beloved Henry died and he had chosen –even on his last minutes on Earth– Diane de Poitiers. The memory would forever be a sting in her bruised heart.

> _“Oh, to see your kindness returned.”_
> 
> _“Yours must, as well. It’s in you still. You must show it to Diane. She is unprotected once I'm gone. After being so much a part of my life, of ours neither of you should be alone. She is extended family, your equal in so many ways.”_

The honesty in Narcisse’s words made her feel the despair and anger she had felt on that tragic day. It somehow made her feel humiliated… but this time, she didn’t repress her emotions. Instead, Catherine let her biggest fear become words –it couldn’t be more excruciating than being a Queen unloved by her King.

“You once told me to beware of myself,” Catherine started, not sure if her pride would permit her to finish what she didn’t know she had been holding in for so long. “I don't know how.”

Lord Stephan Narcisse tenderly kissed Catherine on the top of her head and hugged her even tighter –not only to comfort the Queen Mother, but to comfort himself as well: he didn't know how to do what he had warned Catherine about either.

**...**

The vulnerability of the moment was like déjà vu, only that time Catherine wasn’t the only one who had been been left exposed.

_Give up this idea that nobody can know you and still love you._

Narcisse slowly let go of her. The sudden memory still stung and made him feel as if his whole body would burn if he continued embracing Catherine.

All the damage they had caused to one another, the betrayals... but specially his. However, Narcisse had learned that Catherine's loyalty and love when earned were absolute, almost innocently childish…

> _“Please. I want to feel your arms.”_
> 
> _“Of course.”_
> 
> _“Stephane, I don't want to lose you. I know there's resentment between us. But it's clear to me now. I want us to be together. To go forward. Together.”_

He also got to experience the unmeasured de’ Medici wrath... always provoked by his betrayal; they ricochet. Catherine only lashed out when crossed, like a scared animal would do. Merely instinct, only in Catherine’s case well meditated.

> _“I love you. I'm your equal! You convinced me of that. We belong together. I won't lose you to another and especially not her.”_
> 
> _“This is love to you? Strangling someone with threats and ruthlessly controlling them just to ease your own fears?”_
> 
> _“I ease my fears because they're mine, because they matter. I'm a woman. I won't accept what that means anymore. I won't bow to a lover. I was forced to do that once for a king. But you… are most certainly not a king.”_
> 
> _“And you honestly think that we can move forward? That I can accept this behavior and remain at your side?”_
> 
> _“You claimed to love me for my fierce will. But you seem to have remained a man of your times, who must learn that loving me means loyalty and sacrifice. I have faith. In time, you will exercise both because I've given you my heart. But should you not… should I feel mistreated… well, mark my words, my response will be a hell of a lot worse than a gristly piece of meat.”_

“We'll keep the kingdom from falling apart.” Narcisse promised as he traced patterns over Catherine’s back. He gave her a soft kiss on the lips, it tasted salty from the silent tears that managed to escape the Queens determination. “But first, I have a reckoning in England.” Catherine gave him the briefest of smiles and a soft nod.

Their language was politics and power games; both felt at ease while speaking that common tongue. It was safer than letting emotions take hold.

Lord Narcisse quickly dressed and left the room but his mind kept playing every decision he had taken that led them here. Lola long gone… and Catherine still –and after all– by his side, his equal. Or had been always the other way around?

Catherine stayed on Narcisse's chambers for a while longer, back at brushing her long blonde hair.

_Nothing reveals an indiscretion quite like a hair gone wild._

*******

**Author's Note:**

> Ps. Any Suspiria (2018) fans reading this? Well, I’m working on a Madame Blanc/Susie Bannion one-shot.


End file.
